


Ghost

by gildedfrost



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mermaids, Angst, Deep Sea, M/M, horror?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gildedfrost/pseuds/gildedfrost
Summary: Gavin investigates a murder in the Mariana Trench, where he meets Nines, a deep sea research android.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44





	Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [incredible artwork by LVCYFR](https://twitter.com/LVCYFR/status/1260686946566889473) ([animated version](https://twitter.com/LVCYFR/status/1363925191974387712)), who gave me the green light to write a fic based on it.

If Gavin had known his new job would be sending him to a literal trench, he never would’ve left Detroit.

“The fuck is this?” he asks when his boss stops at his desk. The case is open on his terminal, a flat description of the preliminary details of the murder available in writing. Next to it he has a map open, pinpointing the facility he’s meant to investigate.

Right in the middle of the fucking ocean.

“A case,” Perkins says, looking wholly disinterested in Gavin’s disbelief. “One that you were deemed capable of investigating. Local law enforcement will assist.”

“For a single murder?”

Perkins scowls at him. “The details are important, Reed. Look through them and don’t give me any shit. Different environment, same work. Report to me when you’re done for the day and we can schedule your flight.”

Gavin grunts as Perkins walks on. ‘Different environment’ is an understatement.

The facility is a lab one hundred and fifty meters underwater, run by the Naval Research Laboratory in the waters east of Guam. The victim was a federal employee, but Gavin suspects the escalation above local law enforcement comes from the lab’s partner, CyberLife. It’s not in the official notes, but all it takes is a quick search online to find out they’re involved, along with some articles about their new, shiny deep sea technology, from androids to scanners and whatever else that Gavin doesn’t bother clicking on. They won’t want this to reflect badly on them. No doubt there’s a number of CyberLife researchers on board with clearance to work there, and if the company can get this resolved fast, it should be easy enough to sweep it under the media rug.

And it’s right next to the Mariana Trench.

Gavin’s not scared of heights, depths, or the ocean, but the thought of going there makes him feel like he’s walking to the edge of a cliff at the end of the world. It’s not like it’s just any underwater lab: It’s next to the deepest point on Earth.

He hates the assignment. He can smell CyberLife all over this and it stinks. But he’s only been with the FBI for a year now, having left the DPD behind for good the second he found a better opportunity. Even if it’s a shitty case in a shitty place, he has to take it.

It should be a piece of cake, anyway. How hard could it be to find a murderer within an insulated scientific community?

* * *

He calls Tina after work. She’s back in Detroit, working her way up to detective, and they’re as close as a long-distance friendship can be. His presence in this case isn’t confidential, so he tells her where he’s going and she infers the rest while browsing news articles. She demands pictures and a postcard and, after a token complaint, he promises he’ll see what he can do.

Then he’s on a flight to Guam, and he forgets jetlag is a thing until he’s speaking with local authorities with a coffee in his hand, feeling far too awake and exhausted for nine in the morning.

* * *

After lunch, they send him to Observatory 150.

The dive isn’t so bad. He goes down with a guide in a submarine, with the promise of additional aid tomorrow once another local case is tied up. He’s essentially dropped off at the airlock and left to meet with the crew.

It’s blue outside the thick, reinforced windows, like a clear afternoon sky turned into liquid form. Schooling fish pass by, and it takes a couple of hours before he sees a shark, when they show him to one of the viewing rooms. The experience has him feeling frighteningly weightless.

Thirty scientists work in the facility. Gavin accepts the tour of the place, but when he asks about the crime scene, he’s told it’s at a secondary lab—deeper in the ocean.

The rest of the day is spent acquainting himself with the crew. Anyone of them could be a suspect, but most of them turn out to be boring, standard people. Doesn’t make them innocent, but it makes it harder to pinpoint motivation when all they seem to care about is the ocean.

The kicker: Morgan worked alone.

“Doesn’t that seem dangerous?” Gavin asks Amanda, the woman who designated herself Gavin’s tour guide after dinner. “You get one specimen that’s toxic, or bites back, or one leak… Bam, she’s dead.” Amanda winces at the phrasing. “Not to mention a waste of resources. One person for all that research?”

“Doctor Hadley was one of CyberLife’s.” That confirms that, at least. “Sometimes she came up here, but rarely does anyone go down there. Androids maintain the place. It’s like a whole different world. There’s so much life on this level, and we’re so familiar with it, that going deeper would be like exploring a whole new ecosystem. The photic zone is our forte. Between Guam and the CNMI, we have a bevy of marine life to study with no need to delve deeper. Our lab doesn’t focus on the depths of the trench.”

“Which ones do?”

“A few. Some of them are on land, doing their work remotely, but CyberLife is protective of their best tech. Which Doctor Hadley had full access to.” Amanda beckons to him, bringing him back to one of the viewing rooms and keying something into one of the terminals there. It’s dark now; the interior lights are kept low, like movie theater lights, and Gavin can’t see much.

There’s a soft glow of blue and white approaching their position at the window. What looks like a man—a merman, rather—stops on the other side of the glass, watching them. A blue LED loops lazily at his temple, and lights shine from vents at the sides of his neck and along his tail. His hands are webbed and tipped with claws, and the fin on the back of his tail is spiked.

The side of the tail reads: CYBERLIFE - RK800 - CETUS 52

“This is Connor. He can hear and speak to us through a wireless connection to this computer,” Amanda says. “He can dive up to a thousand meters before his chassis will start to give under the pressure. He and a second Cetus assist with maintenance and research.”

“Huh.” Gavin stares at Connor, the android’s eyes watching him curiously. He can’t tell the color with the light this low. “So Morgan’s got one of these?”

“The model is different, but yes. Her closest research assistant would be the aquatic android she worked with. He may not have evidence as a witness, but he may prove useful for his knowledge about her schedule and meetings.”

“Did something happen to Morgan?” The voice comes from the computer, as promised, and Connor’s lips move in sync with the words with the same fluidity as other androids.

Amanda smiles at him without humor. “She was killed. The FBI is here to investigate. I’m afraid you won’t be seeing her again.”

“Oh.” The fins at the side of Connor’s tail droop ever so slightly. “That is unfortunate. Will she be replaced?”

“Her position may be filled by another researcher, but they won’t be quite like her.”

“Understood.” There’s a strange quiet between the three of them before Connor speaks again. “Does the FBI require my assistance?”

“If I do, can I call you with some sort of dog whistle?” Gavin asks. He doesn’t expect to need the android, but a thousand meters is pretty deep; Connor’s probably passed by Morgan’s lab plenty of times.

“I follow a weekly schedule with monthly clock calibrations. Amanda should have the schedule on hand, but I can recite it if not. That will tell you when I explore certain areas and when I help at this facility.”

“I’ll get the paper copy. You just… swim. Do your thing.”

Connor looks to Amanda, then departs slowly, his presence no longer needed.

“Fully equipped with the same social modules as any other android,” Amanda says. “I think RK900 is different, but you should get along swimmingly.”

“Save the puns. Can we get out of here? This place creeps me out.” It’s dark and more dark, and feels like an Omnimax, except the screen is real.

“Of course.” Amanda leads him out, then shows him to his room: Four bunk beds, two of them already occupied. “Should you need anything, ask one of your roommates.”

“Got it. Thanks, doc,” he says, flashing her a grin that falls off his face as quickly as it came.

He doesn’t like this one bit, but at least the hard part’s not so bad. He just has to take another submarine a little deeper, then he can get to work.

* * *

The second facility is at 3750 meters.

“Jesus fuck,” he says when he finds out. “Christ. God. Virgin fucking Mary. No.”

The ST200 looks at him with that ever-patient smile of hers. “I’m afraid that will be the location of the murder. If your work permits you to examine remotely, we may be able to transport a designated android in your stead. If not, then I assure you, the travel is comfortable and no more stressful than your first trip down here.”

He feels strung out, from the environment to the caffeine to the jetlag, and he’s absolutely going to rip Perkins a new one. “Why? Who the fuck made that decision?”

“If you are interested in the history of the laboratory—”

“Nope.” He holds up a hand. “Don’t. No. Not helping.”

“Of course.” Chloe folds her hands together. “Please update me when you are ready to depart.”

He goes to grab another coffee.

Twenty minutes later, he’s in the submarine.

* * *

Observatory 3750 is terrifying.

It’s almost pitch black at 200 meters. Definitely by 250, and at that point, he stops looking out the tiny submarine window, because if he sees some glowy shit he’s going to lose his mind.

Next time he checks, they’re past 2000.

Then 3000.

When they finally reach 3750, he feels like the entire ocean is on his shoulders.

The facility has the lights on low. Chloe stays with him, and there are two Jerries here to keep the place in order. After a cursory look around, he determines there are no humans in here, and tells Chloe to bring him to the scene. It’s the kitchen and dining area. There don’t seem to be any cameras in here, despite being everywhere else. Presumably, it’s kept strictly separate from the work done here. The perfect spot for a murder, assuming one could avoid notice by the androids, which he doubts.

The place looks about the same as the break room at work, but with more storage space. There’s a chalk outline and dark stain on the ground. “You had a PM android clean this up, right?”

“A PM500 was escorted down here via submarine three days ago,” Chloe says. “I have inferred that it removed the body, gathered evidence, and properly documented the scene.”

Right. That would be everything he’s looked at so far. He didn’t spend long, but he does have a copy of everything on his tablet.

He manages to pry a daily routine from one of the Jerries, allowing him to guide Gavin around the place. The androids aren’t permitted in some areas, but Gavin is, given the nature of his work. There are a few labs, two of which host specimens that could be either alive or dead by this point.

The viewing room is worse.

The glass does a remarkable job of not reflecting the glare, but the strong light that shines when he flicks on the switches doesn’t do much for the void on the other side of the glass. He can see support structures for the facility and the rocks which it is nestled between, but the bulk of the view is like a dark, greasy gray, somewhere between moss green and void. Particles of sea gunk--fish bits, krill, whatever it is--float lazily in the water, drifting slightly downwards.

It’s like he’s looking at an empty tank at the aquarium, except now he’s the one in the tank.

At least the lights work. The last thing he needs right now is a technical issue.

Gavin sets up in one of the rooms that Doctor Hadley hadn’t been using. They’re cramped, with bunk beds, and he uses the extra bed space to store some of the dried food brought down in the submarine. The kitchen is stocked for years, apparently--less, if one eats fish as well--but he should be gone in a week, if not less, and he’s really not keen on disturbing the kitchen of a dead woman.

The rest of the day is spent documenting as much of the place as he can and questioning the Jerries as questions arise. They’ve continued to clean and maintain the place, and he needs to know exactly what they’ve touched and what could have been unusual. They’re gratingly cheerful, but they never tire of his questions, only departing to take care of their standard duties. Chloe remains in the area, and he’s not sure if she’s keeping an eye on him for CyberLife’s purposes or performing the standard function of waiting on humans, but he lets her stay because the thought of being alone here is unnerving. It’s no wonder they keep so many androids here.

He checks the viewing room once more before heading to bed, checking for another of those mermaid models, but it hasn’t shown. Maybe it’s gone loose. He leaves the lights on low when he leaves. Internal communications let him know his promised assistance should arrive in the morning, an android and a human from the local law enforcement.

* * *

It’s late the next afternoon when he realizes the comms are down. Later still when he realizes he can’t locate the three androids anywhere.

It’s not a tiny place, he reasons. Maybe he missed them.

* * *

The following day, he’s ready to go back up and question some of the scientists, help or no help, but the submarine is gone. (Not that he’d know how to pilot it, anyway.)

They’ll come for him. A place like this, things have to go screwy sometimes. It’s natural. He’ll just review the scene again.

* * *

On day four, he digs out the manuals to take care of the place and personally checks that everything is in working order. No leaks or cracks, temperature set properly, no concerning pressure readings.

Comms remain down.

* * *

On day five, he yells into the void of the ocean through the intercom set up for that purpose. He sits for hours, digging through the computer set up for the aquatic android—RK900—and calling for it. He can’t parse the technical jargon and learns very little about the machine.

He punches a wall, then thinks better of it, kicking a chair around after that.

Technical problems can last a week. He’ll be okay, he tells himself, checking the comms every few minutes. They can’t forget about him.

* * *

Day six. Thank god this place has chargers to keep his tablet and phone juiced up. Not that he can do much outside of play offline games and review the case.

He considers journaling his experience, but then he’d be admitting to himself that he’s lost it. He tries to read textbooks instead.

One of the fish experiments is still alive, contained in a tank that could hardly be called a tank, and rather a sectioned off area in the water outside about the size of a large home aquarium tank. Something to do with maintaining the pressure, he reasons. He ditches the rest of them--there’s a method of dumping their corpses back into the wider ocean, and it’s good riddance--and watches the living one. _Coryphaenoides armatus_. Abyssal grenadier, a pretty badass name for a fish. Rattail, not so much. It’s a cool, purple-silver color, and about the length of his forearm. It eats thawed cuttlefish, according to the notes, and Gavin funnels it some of the seafood from the nearby chest freezer.

It looks sad, all alone in its tank.

* * *

The photos in the research documents are horrible. He hates deep sea creatures, and he hates Doctor Hadley, and he sorely wishes she’d had the foresight to get murdered on land.

He rescinds his decision not to disturb the kitchen, and the first thing he goes for are the snack cakes. They taste like hope itself.

He names the fish Rat.

* * *

On day ten, he’s angry, frustrated, upset, scared, and would be ready to kill someone if anyone else were down here. He’s broken and fixed a couple of the chairs a few times over, his diet is wrecked, and the comms are still down. The fish is boring and so sad to watch, and he feels like he’s going to suffocate in the sleeping quarters.

He falls asleep in the viewing room, the ocean looming over him. The vague sense of vertigo makes him feel like he’s going to fall out and die. Part of him would take that gladly, but a much bigger part of him is too stubborn. He’s stuck, but he’s not going to die here, in the deepest ditch on earth.

Tina would kill him if he just gave up and died, anyway. He owes it to her to get out of this place and punch Perkins.

* * *

Gavin wakes to find that he’s not alone.

“Jesus fucking—” He scrambles upright, shoving away the pillow and reaching for his gun. Except he doesn’t have his gun, because it’s back in his quarters, and it wouldn’t do him any good when the thing watching him is on the other side of the glass.

For a moment, he wonders if this really is some act of God, some divine being that only a scarce few humans have borne witness to. An absolutely colossal face looks down at him, an equally sizable hand—clawed and webbed—hovering to the side of the glass. Like a vision of Adam, or perhaps even a demon…

Then he sees the LED, spinning yellow at the thing’s temple.

“I’m not Catholic anymore, anyway,” he grumbles, steadying his shaking limbs. It’s an android. An android the size of a goddamn whale. He’s not sure if he’s even the size of the thing’s nose. Even with it right in front of him, its size is as unfathomable as the depth he’s at now.

Amanda told him Morgan worked with a different model. She’d conveniently failed to mention exactly what was different.

“Okay, fuck this,” he says after watching the android for a long moment. The face is human—looks a lot like the other merman, from what he can recall, even down to the cut of the hair—but the eyes are pupil-less, a pale grey iris reflecting the dim light of the room.

He leaves, slamming the door shut behind him. (Of course, the door is one of those that closes softly no matter what one does, and he’s left unsatisfied.) He can’t deal with this right now. It’s too much. Something that big can’t exist, it just can’t.

* * *

Rat eats on schedule without issue. The fish swims in its small, shallow tank, and Gavin wonders why he hasn’t released it yet. There’s a procedure for that, and he could do it if he chose to.

If he did, he’d be the only living thing in this place.

He feeds it an extra cuttlefish before leaving.

* * *

The android is still there two hours later when Gavin arrives with coffee.

He pulls over a chair and tests its sturdiness before sitting in it beside the terminal. The android continues to stare, floating like some sort of impossible beast. It’s creepy, but in the end, he’s still a machine.

Gavin taps a button on the screen to set the lights to full blast. It doesn’t do much for the endless ocean, but it lights up the android and diminishes the effect of the creepy blue glow from the LED and the vents on his neck. The tail has a glowing blue logo, too, and text that he can’t read from this far.

It’s a lot to take in. Not only does the android look like a massive human—with a well muscled body, he notes, and honestly, who designed this thing?--but the tail is like something out of a nightmare, all white panels with finned spikes along the back, and it’s long enough that he can’t see the end of it.

RK900, he recalls. He’s watching Gavin with a neutral expression, like he’s waiting for something. Hell, he probably is.

Gavin sets the intercom to an open channel. “Can you hear me?” he asks. His voice is a little rough, but he’s been talking to the fish, for lack of better company. At least he looks alright, having kept his beard from growing out past stubble. Not that an android cares, but Gavin likes to keep himself presentable.

“Affirmative. Audio received and understood,” the android responds, with a deep, raspy voice. He doesn’t move his lips. Probably for the better. “RK900, designation: Nines, reporting. Inquiry: What is your name, title, purpose, and affiliation?”

Just a machine after all. It’s comforting, in a way, but makes him feel all the more lonely. He doesn’t know what else he may have expected. “Agent Gavin Reed, FBI.” He shows off the badge at his belt; if the android thought he was lying, that would be less than ideal. “I’m investigating the death and suspected murder of Doctor Morgan Hadley. I need to ask you a few questions.”

He chuckles to himself. This is exactly what he’d wanted to do at the start: Question this android about the case, and now he’s acting like everything’s normal. He’s not sure he even cares about it anymore.

“Request: Please confirm Doctor Hadley’s status.”

“Deceased.” Gavin leans back in his chair and glances back at the screen, where the android’s basic details are pulled up.

CYBERLIFE - RK900 - LEVIATHAN CLASS 809  
NAME: NINES  
STATUS: ACTIVE  
THIRIUM: 87%  
MAINTENANCE: GOOD

“Inquiry: When was Doctor Hadley murdered?”

“Suspected,” Gavin corrects. “It was two weeks ago.” Nines sinks slightly, his mouth dipping from view. “Hey, you know what, could you contact someone? Anyone? Your buddy Connor, maybe? I’m kind of stuck here and there’s no submarine.”

Nines continues to sink slowly, and Gavin’s not sure he’s been heard. “Hey, tin can,” he calls, but then the RK900 turns, his bare back to Gavin. “Oh, no, don’t you fucking—”

He’s off like a bolt, silent and fast, disappearing in moments.

“Hello?” Gavin taps at the screen, frantically attempting to recall the android or enable a wireless connection. “Nines?”

Nothing.

He stays in the room for hours, feeling hollow. Did his only chance of getting out of here just leave him to die? And why the hell did the thing take off after clearly recognizing his authority?

He makes a meal of spam and snack cakes, sitting on the ground next to the chalk outline. “Fuck you, Morgan,” he says. “And fuck your android.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> You can find me on Twitter as @gildedfrost (18+), and I spend time in the [New ERA](https://discord.gg/2EKAAz3) DBH Discord server as well! There's a channel on the server to chat about my works :)


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